


Tumbling Down Hard

by thesaddestboner



Series: in the shadows [4]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: bats_and_balls, Detroit Tigers, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-24
Updated: 2011-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The knowledge, the truth is his secret to keep.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumbling Down Hard

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the second round of [](http://bats_and_balls.livejournal.com/profile)[**bats_and_balls**](http://bats_and_balls.livejournal.com/) and [this prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/series/5815). Fits a request [](http://unreckless.livejournal.com/profile)[**unreckless**](http://unreckless.livejournal.com/) made a while ago, asking for: _Girl!Porcello. "They found a body" and everyone freaks_. Part of [this ’verse](http://benched.livejournal.com/tag/'verse:%20girl!porcello). _In media res_ is fun! Maybe I’ll give this idea proper treatment some other time. Sorry. 
> 
> Thanks to [**inplayruns**](http://inplayruns.livejournal.com/) for helping me wrangle this. :P 
> 
> Title from “No One’s Gonna Love You,” by Band of Horses.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Max is curled around Rick on the couch, not really paying much attention to the news, when Rick grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him, saying, “- did you _see_ that? Were you even paying attention?”

Max reaches up and grabs onto Rick’s hand, holding it against his shoulder. “What?”

Rick raises the remote and mutes the TV. “ ‘There’s been a break in the mysterious disappearance of Rick Porcello,’ ” he says, mimicking the newsanchor’s deep, dramatic voice. “What the fuck kind of break are they talking about? I covered my tracks -”

Max scrambles to sit up and snags the remote from Rick’s hand, turning the volume back on. “Maybe it’s nothing, maybe -”

“- remains were found in a shallow grave off Furnace Road, just outside of Chester, New Jersey,” the anchor says. “This could be the break authorities have been looking for since Detroit Tigers pitcher Rick Porcello disappeared last winter -”

“Oh no,” Rick groans, rubbing his hands over his face and tearing his fingers through his hair, “oh no, oh fuck.”

“Hey, c’mon. It might not be such a bad thing,” Max says, touching his shoulder in an attempt to reassure him.

“How? How could it not be? They’re going to think I’m dead,” Rick snaps, knocking Max’s hand away. He jumps off the couch and begins pacing in front of the TV, hands knotted into fists. “I should call them or something. Tell them -”

“What are you gonna tell them, Rick? That you’re not really dead, you just woke up in someone else’s body?” Max gets up, shrugging the blanket off onto the couch. “C’mon, Rick. They’ll run some tests, maybe look at dental work. They’ll be able to prove it’s not you.”

The TV cuts from an image of the grave, sectioned off by yellow ‘caution’ tape, to old footage from the previous winter of Rick’s tearful mother standing behind a podium, clutching a framed photo of him to her chest. “ _Please, if you know anything about - about where he is, just do the right thing._ ” Rick’s father grips her by the shoulder and sucks his lip between his teeth, glasses fogging. Jake and Zach flank their parents, sallow-faced, their eyes downcast.

Rick grabs the remote off the couch and turns the TV off. His family blinks off the screen.

“There’s nothing you can do right now,” Max says, putting a hand on Rick’s shoulder.

Rick lets him leave his hand there. “I know.”

He sounds tired, defeated, and he sags. Max slips his hand around the back of Rick’s neck and he pulls him against his shoulder. He rests his cheek against the top of Rick’s head and his hair scratches along his jawline. Rick wraps a hand up in the front of Max’s t-shirt.

“It’ll be okay, it’ll be fine,” Max mumbles. He tips Rick’s chin up with his thumb and kisses him on the forehead.

Rick sighs and lets his head drop back on Max’s shoulder when he slips his hand away. “Maybe.”

-

It’s all anybody wants to talk about in the clubhouse the following morning. He gets stopped four times on his way to his locker by various teammates who say: “Did you hear about Rick, man,” “Did you hear they found him,” “They think they found Rick,” “They found a body, they think it’s Rick.” Max apparently feigns shock and horror well enough that they leave him alone; all he can think about is Rick, how they’re the only ones who know the truth.

Perry’s sitting in front of his locker in his street clothes, head down, hands clasped in his lap. Someone calls out his name and he finally raises his head; his eyes look haunted.

Max finally makes it to his own locker and begins unbuttoning his shirt clumsily.

“Hey Max,” Perry calls out to him.

Max closes his eyes for a split second and wonders if it might be too much to ask for Perry to be referring to Max St. Pierre.

“Yo. Scherzer. Hey.”

 _Guess so_. Max opens his eyes and looks over at Perry. “Hey. What’s up?”

Perry stands and makes his way over to Max, shoving his hands into the pockets of his blue jeans. “You heard about Rick,” Perry says.

“Yeah. Everybody did.” Max slips his shirt off and starts digging through the contents of his locker.

“You don’t seem very upset,” Perry says, his tone flat.

“Excuse me?” Max pauses, a pair of navy socks clutched in one hand.

“I said, ‘You don’t seem very upset.’ ” Perry cocks his head and draws his hands out of his pockets, rubs his palms off on his jeans.

Max drops the socks because getting into it in the clubhouse with Perry with a pair of socks in hand would be a little too absurd even for Max. “Are you seriously going to jump on me because I don’t look _upset_ enough?”

“He was your fucking teammate. You could at least look like you care that he’s dead,” Perry snaps.

Max rubs his hands over his face and groans. “Ryan, please don’t start.”

“Dude, come on.” Verlander gets an arm around Perry and pulls him back. “This isn’t helping anyone.”

“At least act like you fucking care,” Perry spits at Max, struggling against Verlander’s grip.

“Ryan, come _on_.” Verlander yanks him back.

Max watches helplessly as Perry finally relents and allows Verlander to tug him away.

Max almost lets it slip right then that he knows where Rick is, that he knows Rick is alive, but the moment passes almost as quickly as it came. The knowledge, the truth is his secret to keep.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
